


Shining star

by badreputation



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial, Farmer Kita Shinsuke, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Kita POV, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, aftermath of death, past sakuatsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badreputation/pseuds/badreputation
Summary: “I don’t believe you’re in love with me.” Shinsuke tells him. “I think you look up to me, might have a crush. But it’s not love.”Atsumu’s jaw ticks, his eyes now glassy, shining with abrupt tears he doesn’t shed.“Mingle with people, look up to somebody else and see if it’s the same feeling. Date somebody. Explore your emotions. Compare them. And if you’re still as certain as you are now - I’ll say yes.”
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 36
Kudos: 668





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big shout out to Duu and Kris - both of you get all my unconditional love for cheering me along the bumpy road, honestly thank you! ❤️
> 
> WARNING! Mentions of minor character death and the aftermath. You can go check the notes if you want to know, but it's mentioned early on in the story either way.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Shinsuke tells Atsumu this:

“Find me in four years and if you still think the same, I’ll say yes.”

It’s his graduation, the ceremony having already passed. Atsumu’s eyebrows pinch together as he swallows and tries to interpret Shinsuke’s words. His gaze makes a minute detour to confirm that Shinsuke’s second button is missing.

Shinsuke dips his hand into the pocket of his slacks, takes the oval, plastic button between his thumb and index finger. He lifts it over his face to look through four of the tiny holes in it, first at the blue sky, then at Atsumu. He tucks it back where he’d gotten it from. 

“Why?”

Atsumu seems on the verge of spewing more questions, to take the remaining step between them, to try and intimidate him into answering.

“Can I be honest? No kickin’ about the bush.”

Atsumu nods, hands clasping tighter at his sides. His lower lip twitches but he holds his ground. Shinsuke wants to say it in a softer manner, maybe cushion it, to soften the blow.

“I don’t believe you’re in love with me.” Shinsuke tells him. “I think you look up to me, might have a crush. But it’s not love.”

Atsumu’s jaw ticks, his eyes now glassy, shining with abrupt tears he doesn’t shed.

“Mingle with people, look up to somebody else and see if it’s the same feeling. Date somebody. Explore your emotions. Compare them. And if you’re still as certain as you are now - I’ll say yes.”

It’s cruel to give him the middle finger when his kouhai has evidently been mustering all his courage for the past month. However, he doesn’t want to hurt both of them by complying with a teenager that has more spite and ire in him than any other human being he’s met. 

In a way, Shinsuke is a coward. Because he wants to say yes, yet fears the pain that will ensue.

Maybe one day Atsumu will prove him wrong. 

Today, he lets Atsumu embrace him and whisper through the uncontrollable hiccups, “Just you wait.” 

In full honesty, it sounds more like a threat rather than a promise, in typical Miya Atsumu manner.

☆

Shinsuke had decided a long time ago that he doesn’t want to be a doctor, a teacher or a physicist. The unyielding need to have something of his own has driven him for the majority of his life. It saddens him like nothing else, that one day his gran won’t be with him anymore and he doesn’t want to stay in that house, to be reminded of it all.

Another cowardly move.

He’s proven right in a few years. It’s an ordinary death due to old age. She passes in her sleep and Shinsuke has no regrets. He spent last night with her, for the first time in a month, free of any university obligations. Just him and gran, on the veranda to stare at the twinkling stars and the extraordinarily big moon. They’d had her favourite white tea with orange peels, along with a light dinner consisting of miso soup, pickled vegetables, rice and some grilled salmon.

He swears he gets awoken sometime in the night, a phantom touch of a calloused but overly soft hand in his hair, stroking his forehead, and a loving voice tells him, “Sleep well, Shin-chan.”

The next morning Kita finds her in her futon, peaceful, with a smile tugging at her thin lips.

He cries for the first time this year, has a brick lodged in his throat, his tear ducts overworked. He doesn’t have anybody else to tell, apart from a few neighbours who loved her as well. The following procedures breeze past him like a gust of wind and by the end of them, he’s left with an urn containing her ashes. He doesn’t have enough money to buy land and bury them. He considers telling somebody about what's going on with him, maybe Aran, but he has a tournamentship. Ren has his own family problems. Michinari too has a lot on his head.

The phone screen lights up Shinsuke’s face as he lies in his futon. A fresh bout of tears elicits a dull throb in his eyeballs. His fingers hover over Ren’s name in his contact list, however he stops in the last possible moment and pushes the side button to turn off the screen.

He inches forward, until he’s curled into himself. The movement pulls at his thighs given he’s sitting with his legs crossed, but he welcomes the discomfort. He wants to talk, lay it on the table just so he can get this anguish out of him. 

Instead he falls asleep drowning in the uncontrollable sorrow that doesn’t seem to be nearing any end. 

\--- 

Shinsuke is rudely awoken by the buzz of his phone as the device slides against the bare wood next to his head. He ignores it without looking at the caller. He does that a second and a third time, convinced it’s those people who pester you into buying shit you don’t need. The phone lights up again.

He almost drops it on his face upon seeing the ID.

_Atsumu --- incoming call_

A part of him is curious as to whether Atsumu will call a fifth time. He must be very serious and in need to talk to him if he’s so insistent. What on earth can he possibly need Shinsuke for? And couldn’t it have been any other night but this one?

He picks up either way.

Silence.

Shinsuke’s voice is rough and groggy when he says, “Yes?”

An intake of breath. And, _“I’m sorry.”_

It’s a croaked out response, entirely unlike his former kouhai who always has and most likely still is the most boisterous person in the vicinity. But people change. He hasn’t been in contact the past year and Atsumu didn’t try to reach out either. The logical conclusion was that Shinsuke was right all along, further proven with the scandal of “Black Jackals’ power couple: Miya and Sakusa” hitting national TV with full force. 

_“I’m-- You--- when’s the burial? I can help, if you want. Anything you need, Kita-san.”_

Ah. 

But how does he even know when Shinsuke hadn’t told anybody?

“It’s alright.”

_“I mean it.”_

“I know.” Shinsuke swallows the resurrected lump lodged in his throat. “It was yesterday afternoon. But thank you for the sentiment.”

Atsumu doesn’t need to know his financial status prevented him from making a proper burial.

His voice is about to crack. His heart keeps hitting at his ribs while the rest of his insides grow cold and form a ball of multiple emotions, all forced together like colours until the ball turns black when the merge is complete.

“I need to go. Thank you, Atsumu.”

He catches the protest as he hangs up, places his phone on the floor when he turns off the noise and vibrations and goes back to sleep, curled around the fluffy pillow his gran made for him when he was six. 

\---

Shinsuke doesn’t touch his phone the upcoming two days, only sits on his laptop to send a few mails to fellow colleagues, to ask if it’s possible for them to help him with some of the material he’s missed. To his professors, he sends the same copy-pasted mail detailing his situation. The remainder of the time he looks for a house in the countryside.

\---

Coming back to reality is a struggle that takes all of his remaining strength. At first, his mind is empty, apart from the single thought that the room is too hot. 

Shinsuke turns his head to the left, sees a big mug of water next to him, at a calculated distance from him in case he turned in his sleep. There are two white pills next to it, not identical. 

Then the memories flood back like sluggish drops of water seeping out of a crack in a wooden bucket. 

His gran’s passing, the funeral and the consequent fever from the stress. 

A strong shiver up his spine. A strange pull under his ribs. 

Shinsuke reaches for his phone and there sit four missed calls from one Miya Atsumu. But Shinsuke hadn’t answered either one of them. A quick scroll to check his call history and the realisation that the conversation was a twisted conjuring on his mind’s behalf. 

Shinsuke goes on autopilot, checks his emails, is greeted by eight unopened ones. Two from his colleagues, five from his professors. The only thing that wasn’t a fable was the emails he’d sent them. 

The rest was wishful thoughts served to him on a silver platter, with a spoon coated in a poison of his own design.

☆

  
  


Shinsuke finds a supposedly haunted house in the outskirts of his city, sold for 0 yen, the evening after he wakes up from his broken fever. His gran had told him jokes of the _akiya_ and how lonely the spirits there must be, deserted in an abandoned home. With no light or warmth that could only be bestowed to them by the owners. 

It's not in an isolated place or anything, but it's not that close to civilization either.

He calls the number on the web page, has a short conversation regarding available seeings and dates he can come by. He knows that’s his new home before he hangs up the phone. 

The upcoming two and a half weeks are overflowing with deadlines for university, loads of documents he needs to fill, meetings with the previous inhabitants of the house and a notary, along with a second notary in arrangements to sell his gran’s house when he’s done moving. He’s present for it all, yet has very few recollections of the events past the vital information he needs to know. 

Three weeks after his gran’s passing, be it because of the previous owners’ need to get the old house off their hands or the vast resources they had on hand to finish up the ordeal faster, he steps into his new home. He knows he’s too lucky to have done it so quickly, with all the documents and procedures, it’s almost eerie in a way. But he tells a thank you to whatever let this happen. 

The truck he’d hired with the little savings he possessed had departed a short while ago, after having deposited his belongings. The pictures he’d first looked at and the seeing of the house itself left him calm on behalf of the lack of damage. The previous owners had tried renting it as a side income, however after a year of lost time they’d given up. In the meantime they kept an eye on it, made sure it was in living conditions. The plumbing was excellent for a borderline ancient classical house, any leaking pipes were fixed. They’d even left an old refrigerator, a washing machine and a stove that was the refrigerator's senior. 

That’s more than enough for him. 

He cleans it from top to bottom, laments some of the unsalvageable shogi doors that were worn down with time, leaves the garden for when he feels more physically able. He might grow herbs and vegetables, plant an orange tree, maybe even a lemon tree. 

There’s plenty of space. 

☆

  
  


Shinsuke had the plan of a bachelors and a masters degree. But the old man that inhabits the house closest to him pushes his life in an entirely different direction. 

  
  


☆

  
  


Takeshi-san is a 80 year old man that lives alone on what is actually a rice farm. Shinsuke finds out only when Takeshi-san visits to give him a pack of fresh rice as a welcoming gift, hands it to him with a broad smile as warm as the summer sun.

Shinsuke feels like this is the first real human contact he’s had in a while. He’s talked with other people, yes, but Takeshi-san’s radiant character lights him up for the first time in almost a month. He actually enjoys the hour and a half they converse over a few cups of tea.

“It’s nice havin’ youngsters again!" Takeshi-san’s grip on his cup grows hard, his bony hands bearing numerous scars from a hard life. "Young folk keep movin’ away nowadays. It’s sad, really.”

He’s undoubtedly a lonely man with a big heart, stayed behind in the farm so his children could go live in the big cities. His accent is even more pronounced than Kita’s. Like his gran’s was.

Shinsuke is aware of the growing sympathy that has already sprung a leaf simply due to his recent loss and his mind’s attempt to compensate for it. 

“Can I help with anythin’? I don’t know a lot but I can learn fast. Winter is almost here and I can’t imagine that being easy for you in a relatively rural era.”

The nearest bus stop is an hour by foot. The hospital is another half an hour on said bus. The third house in the vicinity is 5 kilometers away. Shinsuke is nearer, with only 1 kilometer between his home and Takeshi-san’s farm where he’s also lived for the past 40 years. 

Takeshi-san reaches over the small table to pat the back of Shinsuke’s hand. “Worry ‘bout yerself, young man. I’ve survived worse.” a cloud passes over his eyes, a sad memory by the looks of the mournful smile. “But I thank ya for yer kindness.”

From then on it’s shared lunches whenever Shinsuke doesn’t have university. Then it gradually becomes an exchange of recipes. Takeshi-san’s dog, a Beauceron named Hoshiko, is one of the most lovable pets he’s encountered. She’s only two years old, a ray of sunshine like her master. She takes a liking to Shinsuke the same day he meets her, to the point of her running the distance to his house, to say hello for an hour or three on the days he can’t stop by the farm.

As he told Takeshi-san, he learns fast and it’s a little less than two weeks since he’s moved when they have a more serious conversation.

“So ya have no idea of what ya want ta work?”

Shinsuke shakes his head, rubs his fingers over Hoshiko’s head, then at the base of her floppy ears. “I think I’m gonna quit university.”

“Oh?” Takeshi-san puts his cup on the table, taps the worn surface of it with his palm to bring Shinsuke’s attention to him. “My boy, do what ya need. Life ain’t as thrillin’ when ya take the big road instead of swervin’ to a hidden pathway. Take it from a veteran.”

He laughs at Shinsuke’s astonishment, clapps when Shinsuke’s face contorts into a genuine smile and even Hoshiko barks her excitement, tail hitting the floor repeatedly. 

He studied economics for two years, wasn’t fond of any subject, nor did he enjoy even a tenth of the material. He ultimately settled on business management, because that’s what’ll give him a stable job. Maybe. 

Now here he is, at 22, having just gotten home from his last exam before he freezes his second year of business management in case he regrets his decision. 

And he knows he’s taken the right one when a thought floats to the surface.

_Gran would be proud that I’m thinking of myself._

☆

He hasn’t been in touch with his former classmates since the funeral, has been dodging text messages, calls, even desperate emails. 

Poof.

He’d vanished in the span of three weeks. 

They can’t even find him in his gran’s house because he managed to sell it, didn’t tell any of his old neighbours where he’s going. None of his friends were in Hyogo at the time, so they couldn't have swung by to check up on him. And Shinsuke had cut off their last form of contact.

In retrospect, his actions are the complete opposite of his logical behaviour. While he’s having his morning cup of tea, observing the sunrise seated on the porch, Shinsuke berates himself for his rash actions and lack of consideration. Sending a message of reassurance isn’t hard, yet he hadn’t found time for it in almost two months. 

He’d hid to the point of having switched his phone off. He has his laptop when he wants to watch a movie or just waste time online, never opening his inbox, just hovering the mouse over the ever increasing number, then backpedalling at the speed of light.

Shinsuke never could have predicted his gran's passing would affect him to such a degree that it’s as if he’s broken a limb, has had it suffer irreversible trauma and is currently learning how to live his everyday life anew.

Today, he has ample time to answer. 

He learns they'd found out about the funeral within a month, but at the time it was already too late. Shinsuke had managed to move to his new home by then. That’s when the emails start. From all of them - Ren, Aran, Michinari, even Atsumu, Osamu, Gin and Suna. 

He doesn’t want to know what the number of messages on his phone is.

Shinsuke reads through the mountain of emails. The thing that makes the guilt poke him in the belly is that they haven’t given up, the last mail is from Osamu, mere five hours ago. Considering how precautious the second years, apart from Atsumu, were at his presence during high school it comes out as a surprise they hadn’t stopped reaching out. True, they’d had get-togethers and he might have possibly underestimated how close of a friend they think him to be.

He also finds out that Michinari and Ren had finally been able to get some time off to come back to Hyogo, just to see if they’d find Shinsuke in his university. Just a little after Shinsuke had frozen his second year. They might have even missed each other by a day, if his memory serves right.

Shinsuke answers their questions to his best ability in his own emails and if Atsumu’s is a little shorter than the others’, despite the fact that he’s the one who’s sent the most, well. Shinsuke still hasn’t been able to completely cut the strings and until he’s done that, then leveled any romantic emotions towards Atsumu, he’ll keep a stable distance.

Time mends all in the end. 

But maybe the slogan he didn’t find logic in is what he is now in need of,

_‘We don’t need things like memories’_

☆

After having explained his situation to his friends, they stop with the email bombarding (they just tune it down a notch). Atsumu doesn’t answer Shinsuke for an entire day before sending him a passive-aggressive answer, closely followed by an apology half an hour later. The rest accept it to varying degrees, Aran, Ren and Michinari being the ones closer to Atsumu’s level of pissed off.

But they get used to it. Shinsuke answers their mails every morning while having his tea. Alright, _almost_ every morning.

He doesn’t tell them where he is, not even after Aran threatens to hire a detective to sniff his traces out, nor when Michinari is close to promising to blackmail him back into social media, “Suna style”. The prospect of never having Ren’s cookies again almost makes him cave, he’ll admit. 

When he picks up the courage to pluck his phone into the charger and bring it back to life, the first person he calls is Aran, to congratulate his fairly recent win, just last night. He’d read about it on his laptop, even watched snippets of the match on Youtube. 

_“You are the most insufferable person I’ve met and I want to punch ya and hug the livin’ daylights outta ya at the same time.”_ is what he tells Shinsuke after he screams upon hearing his voice. Apparently, he hadn’t checked the ID of the caller.

After they talk for a whooping 4 hours, Kita is almost on the verge of telling him of his home.

_“I get it. I don’t like how ya went about things, but I understand ya, Shinsuke. And, uh, ya might wanna beat some sense in Atsumu ‘cuz that brat has been raisin’ havoc since ya came back.”_

He finds out that upon reviving contact, Atsumu had started fucking with the media, just so he could get Kita’s attention. Talk about creativity. Not one sane person is going to think ‘Oh, you know what? I should start a fight with the paparazzi to get a person-who-until-recently-has-been-MIA’s attention because apparently they still go online to follow the news’. Apart from Miya Atsumu.

Two days after Aran’s conversation Shinsuke calls Atsumu only to say, 

“Cut it out with the media stunts and stop embarrassing your team. You’re an adult. Behave like one. And being passive-aggressive ain’t gonna make me answer faster, Atsumu.” he promptly hangs up, but not before hearing Atsumu sputter, then the boisterous laughter of numerous people, one of which might have been Hinata Shouyou. 

Thankfully, Atsumu takes his words to heart and ceases with the dramatic behaviour. Instead, he does something even more ridiculous during a live interview after a game, eyes pointed at the camera in front of him, as if he’s trying to look into Shinsuke’s soul.

_“Miya-san, it is quite obvious there has been a shift in the mood recently, could you elaborate on that?”_

This is the moment Shinsuke recognises Atsumu’s pensive face - he’s weighing his options and Shinsuke recognises the exact millisecond Atsumu’s brain offers him something entirely different. 

A wicked glint possesses his eyes, makes them crinkle in mischief before his lips pull into a feral grin. _“I have a, uh, special somebody I gotta thank for that.”_

He notices Atsumu fails to mention any details, thus leaving it as a clear jab - he’s ‘thanking’ Shinsuke for both the bad and the good shift in his mood. 

As he says the last line, Atsumu lifts his hand to place over his heart and leans forward to loom over the microphone. _“You know who you are. But also, pickled plums and hot lemon ain’t gonna cut it this time.”_

Considering the lengths Shinsuke goes to keep a stable boundary between them, he can’t help but admire the balls Atsumu has. He used to curl into himself whenever Shinsuke scolded him in high school, then he’d follow him around with his tail between his legs. 

He truly has grown up, if a little. Now he retaliates, he stands his ground, he finds different methods to provoke Shinsuke, each as bold as the last one. Shinsuke would have reacted, if he isn’t currently hostage to an emotion that flips him about, as if he’s in the middle of the ocean amidst a storm. Once he finds his way back to the shore, on dry land, he’ll clap back and admit that Atsumu’s ways truly are creative, if fueled by spite and petty grudges.

The day he opens his social media to check all the messages, Line notifies him he has 3,197 messages. At first he’s certain it’s a fluke or an error, before he clicks open all his chat history. 1,753 messages are from Atsumu alone, from the past month. The reason being he decided that texting with one or two words per message was a great idea.

Shinsuke reads them all either way, paying no mind to the minor detail that Atsumu will know he opened the chat. Half of the texts consist of Atsumu trying to taunt him into answering, like threatening he’ll go out in the rain just to petulantly catch a cold and shove it in his face. The hilarity of it being that Atsumu kept his word. A day later, he’d sent a selfie, evidently with a fever, and behind him is one pissed off Osamu who was mid taking the phone away from his most likely delirious brother. 

Then the fun is over with. After that, Atsumu must have sunk into a realisation that Shinsuke actually wouldn’t answer, that it wasn’t a joke or a week off. Aran had told him of his gran’s passing, which is the last piece Atsumu needs to connect the dots that something is terribly wrong but also coming to the conclusion that he’s powerless and unable to do anything when Shinsuke has cut off all contact. 

The desperation soaks up his messages, then it skyrockets when the final drop topples over the overflowing goblet - Shinsuke moving. 

Atsumu was probably drunk at the time, seeing as his texts became a wall of hiragana or combinations of kanji that don’t make sense. He curses himself that he hadn’t taken time off from the tournament, for just a damn day, to go check up on Shinsuke in Hyogo. Whereas Shinsuke had been relying on it - the game being more important at that exact moment so he could have the time he needed to finish things up.

At one point, Atsumu also came to the conclusion that the four times he’d called were a little after the passing of Shinsuke’s gran and he kept on delving into the metaphorical tree, certain that he should have pestered Shinsuke into picking up. In reality, Shinsuke had been too delirious due to the fever, so it didn’t matter either way.

By the time he’s done with all 1,753 messages it feels like he’s gone through a short novel of a catastrophe that keeps blooming in front of his eyes, the remains still on fire.

Shinsuke’s ire sparks, not only at Atsumu. But at his significant other, Sakusa-kun, as well, for not stopping Atsumu before he’d spiraled down the rabbit hole of consuming guilt. Because in the beginning, it was fine, then all of a sudden Atsumu’s short messages had become full of detailed analysis after analysis that spoke of too much free time on his hands to obsess over something out of his control.

But.

In the end, their form of relationship is none of his business. Shinsuke sees, with his own eyes, how much Atsumu has grown. He has enough wit in him to know who’s good for him and Shinsuke won’t be the judge of the source of his happiness.

The last message Atsumu sent was eight hours ago, a simple “are you okay?”, to which Shinsuke responds with a simple “Yes. Thank you.” and it’s done with.

He doesn’t ask Atsumu how he is because that won’t be simple, it’ll inevitably create a difficult situation of back and forth.

Short and simple. 

Boundaries and strict lines.

Eradication of memories he doesn’t need. 

And one day, Shinsuke will be okay. After the hands of time have bathed him in their crystal water, purified his wounds with the salt of crashing stars, let him heal at his own pace, in his own nebula.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The minor character death is Kita's grandma.
> 
> Thank you for reading! More in chapter two!


	2. Chapter 2

Shinsuke slowly reaches out to all of his former teammates, in the form of calls and texts, apologises for his abrupt evaporation from the face of the Earth. He can almost pretend it never happened to begin with, if Atsumu hadn’t gotten bolder. 

He sends Shinsuke pictures every day. The view from his small balcony, the sunrise, the park from another prefecture he’s had to travel to for a game, _Pucca’s_ chocolate treats in all their different variations, an appetizing dinner in Tokyo, a vending machine filled only with coffee beverages in Osaka, what he deems the most delicious conbini bought tuna and mayo onigiri and so forth. 

Shinsuke doesn’t relent, answers with excruciatingly short messages that might be doing more harm than good. He adamantly does _not_ answer Atsumu’s calls and always makes sure it’s been a few hours since a new message has graced him before he replies to it. 

Yet Atsumu does not seem to get the hint. Shinsuke brings out the topic to Osamu, after they’ve had a spontaneous conversation regarding rice plants, harvests and Osamu’s blossoming business. If there’s one person who knows what Atsumu is up to, it’s his twin brother.

 _“Ah. Uh.”_ Osamu coughs, murmurs something under his breath. _“I’ll talk to him about it, though I don’t think he’ll listen to me ‘cuz we all know he’s an idiot. I’d tell you but he’ll lynch me for it.”_

Shinsuke presses the knuckle of his index finger between his eyebrows to alleviate the beginning of a headache. 

“Doesn’t he have Sakusa-kun to keep his attention elsewhere?”

Osamu chokes, followed by the sound of dull thumping and rattling coughs. Shinsuke puts an end to his misery soon after, since it’s quite obvious there’s something brewing and the twin confidentiality can’t be broken. Later in the afternoon, when he’s trotting back from Takeshi-san’s house after a gruelling day, he’s met with two messages.

>from Osamu

**I’m so sorry, Kita-san. In my defence it was gonna happen sooner or later, me butting in made it explode way before it’s due. I take full responsibility for it, please don’t kill me, I haven’t proposed to Rin yet.**

>from Atsumu

**idk what news you watch kita-san but me and omi havent been together for like a while now. it even hit national tv again i couldnt go to my fav conbini to get that nice tuna and mayo onigiri i told ya about. the point is im not with omi. maybe if u stopped ducking my calls and texts youd know that. and im aware the end of the four years is around the corner**

Shinsuke reads through Atsumu’s message six times, almost seven, before he gives up trying to convince himself that it’s just Atsumu’s inability to use proper grammar and punctuation, along with his refusal to retype wrong kanji combinations, and not the mention of the promise Shinsuke had made eons ago.

_“Find me in four years--”_

This can’t happening. Not when Shinsuke has finally finished putting things in metaphorical boxes.

_“--and if you still think the same--”_

Not when it hurts less.

_“--I’ll say yes.”_

Not when he has made peace with it and accepted it as it is. 

  
  


☆

Shinsuke doesn’t cut all contact like last time, refuses to fall into that pit of misery and self-pity. His gran didn’t raise him like that. Is he trying his best? Yes. So, does he have anything to worry about?

He wants to say no, that the watching deities gran believed in will make sure the separated pieces will align, then they'll mend them back together, like _kintsugi_. 

It’s not any spirit in the supposedly haunted house that writes a clue on the wall or the bathroom mirror, no, it’s Suna who makes him aware of his own fear. Originally, it was a conversation with Osamu, but then there’s a confused murmur and he’s replaced with Suna’s calm voice.

He outright confronts Shinsuke, about the dread that he’s the one who caused Atsumu and Sakusa’s break up, spends another five minutes trying to convince Shinsuke that it’s bollocks. It doesn’t do anything to sway his opinion. Atsumu held a deeper sentiment towards him for years, might think he still does. Shinsuke vanishing off the face of the earth must have triggered him into making a rash decision, a result of the ghost of a feeling of his past. That’s why Shinsuke will stay passive, will not engage.

The guilt of being the reason for a ruined couple makes an awful, slimy feeling pour over him, cages him in sticky tar he can’t extract himself from. He despises it. His gran would be appalled if he’s one of those people that get between happy relationships and turn them into shambles. The only way he spots a fix to the situation is to remove himself from the equation long enough for Atsumu to get his head straight and see his mistake. 

It would be an easier feat if Atsumu stopped behaving like a high school jock out for vengeance in the form of constant acts of provocation aimed to make Shinsuke react.

 _“Why do I have the feeling I did nothing to convince you?”_ Suna’s sigh is an echo of Shinsuke’s. 

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

Shinsuke puts an end to the conversation soon after, makes a mental note to stop watching Atsumu’s interviews and readies himself for an afternoon of work. Just as he’s about to head out his phone starts to frantically vibrate against the table of his small kitchen. 

_Incoming call from Atsumu_

He stares at it from the door frame, observes as it keeps sliding against the wooden surface, then walks the four steps it takes him to get to the _genkan_ and promptly out of the house.

His phone is on the floor (thankfully unharmed) when he comes back later in the evening, after a nourishing dinner with Takeshi-san. There’s four missed calls and a swipe down the screen shows him a Line notification of a text that says, ‘please just answer my calls’. He scrolls up, leaves the message unread and goes about his night routine. He watches a documentary about whales and goes to sleep.

☆

  
  


The fates, as it seems, have no intention of letting him do the right thing, seeing as Miya Osamu manages to land himself at Takeshi-san’s doorstep. Shinsuke remembers Takeshi-san mentioning a young, interested buyer who needs rice for his own small business.

Osamu has grown his natural hair out, no longer a trace of silver to be found. It looks more fluffy and shiny now, like the coat of a fox. There’s less tension around his shoulders, he's more at ease with himself than he’d been in high school.

The utter shock gradually spreads over his face until he’s gaping and rubbing his eyes madly, only to blink up at him again and understand that it’s not an apparition. He almost breaks his _seiza_ at the low table, Shinsuke sees his arms move to balance himself.

“Shinsuke-kun! C’mere, there’s tea!” Takeshi-san waves him over in an animated manner, reaches to his left to pat the _zabuton_ in invitation, evidently left out for him. “This is Miya-san, the interested buyer. See, he’s started his own onigiri business and doesn’t want factory-bought rice.”

“Thank you for the tea.” Shinsuke nods, sits in a _seiza_ between Osamu and Takeshi-san, and takes his steaming cup of tea. “He’s a trustworthy person. We went to high school together.” he says, to continue the stable flow of the conversation.

Osamu coughs, masks it by taking a sip from his cup while he keeps throwing Shinsuke conflicted glances. 

Takeshi-san’s eyes crinkle, almost having the appearance of being closed, as he laughs, “The world truly is a small place, eh?”

“Er, yes. Kita-san was the captain of our volleyball team. Truth to be told he’s one of the scariest people I’ve met.” Osamu joins in, however his eyes speak of a promise that there’ll be a more serious conversation after they’re done here.

Shinsuke had figured he won’t be able to stay incognito for long. He’s grateful for the three months he’s had to gather himself and start a new chapter of his life. He’s also glad it’s Osamu of all people, because he’s as discreet as one can be. Even if that means that twin confidentiality will assure Atsumu is going to know of his whereabouts by the end of the day. 

The talk is friendly and productive. With Shinsuke there to vouch for Osamu, Takeshi-san is even more inclined to say yes to the deal. It’s a fair payment, unlike the one he’d previously suffered, left with barely any money despite his big crops because of the greedy restaurant owner he’d agreed to help. He’s still a bit reluctant, as an old man who's seen enough, and needs to think a bit more thoroughly, so Shinsuke steers them elsewhere.

By the time they’re done it’s night fall and Shinsuke has to leave. Osamu lurks as Shinsuke and Takeshi-san discuss the plan for tomorrow, mulling how to ask to come with him without being rude. Shinsuke takes pity on him, tells him he can stay for dinner if he wants to.

The trek towards Shinsuke’s home is quick. They take Osamu’s rented car, the drive silent. Once having taken off their shoes at the _genkan_ , Shinsuke heads for the kitchen to wash his hands. His phone sits on the edge of the table, a small light at the upper right corner of the screen blinking in green from a missed call. Osamu watches him pat his hands dry in a kitchen towel, push the side button to check the ID of the caller and lower it a moment later, placing it face down on the counter.

Osamu goes to wash his hands.

“I dunno how to start this, Kita-san. I don’t think you want condolences, but I’m also sorry you had to lose yer grandma like that.”

Shinsuke pours them each a cup of water. “That’s how life is. But thank you, Osamu.”

Osamu’s own phone starts buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. He exhales quietly, picks up. 

Shinsuke can’t help but get filled with dread.

“Yea? I’m a lil busy at the moment.”

He can’t hear the exact words of the person on the other line but he knows it’s Atsumu by the way Osamu shoots him nervous side glances. Shinsuke crosses his arms and leans his lower back on the edge of the counter, eyes unseeing.

“I’ll call ya back in a bit, a’ight? Yea. Fuck you too. Good riddance, I’m hangin’ up.”

Osamu sighs, drags his palm over his face when he pockets his phone.

“I can’t lie to him about this.”

“I don’t expect you to. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Osamu pulls one of the two chairs on the table to sit, cradles his cup of water.

“Rin said you feel like the cause of ‘Tsumu and Sakusa’s break up.” he says it like a fact he seems heavily reluctant to believe. “Not to be rude or anythin’, and excuse me, but what the hell? Why would you-- how did you get to that conclusion, Kita-san?”

Shinsuke is silent, unrelenting. 

Osamu bites at his mouth, gulps the entire cup of water in one go. He looks more conflicted than Shinsuke feels. “You’ve no idea how much I wanna tell you.”

“You can’t. I know.”

“See? That’s what I’m talkin’ about! You know. You've always known, have been aware of yer surroundings to the smallest of details, yet ya can’t see this.” he lifts the glass to wave it back and forth. “The most obvious thing in the world that’s practically one ginormous neon sign over ‘Tusmu’s dumb, fat head.”

“Which is?”

“That he’s in love with ya.”

Despite being prepared for Osamu to say that, it still pierces his heart like a needle through a singlade ball.

“Has been since we were 16.”

In Atsumu’s feelings he can doubt. Dread and fear can make your mind play brutal tricks on you, turn it against you in the least expected ways. Having his twin, the only person in the world who knows him from A to Z, say the same thing makes his firm position waver.

“I can’t make you feel something you don’t. And I’m sorry if it came out that way. In full honesty, you’ve always been a hard person to read, Kita-san. What I’m askin’, what ‘Tsumu’s askin’, is for you to just hear him out.”

Another sigh, heavier, filled with a lot of inner turmoil. 

“He’ll try to confront you and when he does - he’ll break.” he says, the grimace forming as a clear sign that he doesn’t actually want this information to come out of him. “I can’t stop him.”

Their eyes meet - regret and acceptance. “I know, Osamu.” 

Ah, Osamu. Ever the good soul that always apologised for Atsumu’s actions like they’re his own. Might be twin responsibility, might be future insurance - that’s how he’d always presented it, with a shrug, when asked. Shinsuke’s bet is on the responsibility. 

Osamu leaves soon after, with an apologetic smile, then a bow.

“Thank you for helping me with Takeshi-san. I appreciate it.” at this, Shinsuke returns the smile with one of his own, albeit a tired one, and watches him leave in his rented car.

\---

He doesn’t expect Atsumu at his doorstep that morning, a brief 9 hours since Osamu left. 

Atsumu swallows, eyes wide in an attempt to meet Shinsuke’s while simultaneously raking up and down his frame. The violet circles under his eyes make him look sick and the pallid tone of his skin isn’t just Shinsuke’s imagination.

“Can I come in?” he asks in a meek voice, as if his bravado had melted away the moment Shinsuke had opened the front door. “Please?”

Shinsuke shuffles to the side, his slippers dragging over the floor. Atsumu stares for a little longer, bows his head and steps carefully inside. “ _Ojamashimasu_.” he murmurs when he takes his shoes off at the end of the genkan.

He gets on his knees on the clean wooden floor to place his sports shoes in the corner. Back in high school he would have just kicked them off with no regards as to where they land. Shinsuke does the same with his own slippers, places them a little farther away from Atsumu’s shoes. 

Atsumu has a backpack on him, stands in the middle of the hallway with his hands entwined together in front of him as he observes Shinsuke’s actions in full stillness. 

“Kitchen is to your right.”

Atsumu blinks, a moment as if he’s about to say something passes over his carefully blank face, before he ultimately nods and heads to the right. He’s left the backpack propped against one of the table’s legs and occupied one of the chairs when Shinsuke enters, the same one Osamu had sat on. 

He makes coffee, the kitchen silent apart from the old, whirring machine that sounds like it’s going to catapult through the ceiling any moment.

Even after he gives Atsumu one of the mugs he doesn’t sit in the opposite chair, goes to lean against his favourite counter after he’s poured himself some milk and left it on the table if Atsumu wants some.

Atsumu does no such thing, doesn’t even touch the mug.

They just stare at each other. Atsumu in a mixture of hurt and wonder, Shinsuke in acceptance of the upcoming storm that’s already started brewing.

He’s tired. Of running, of cutting bonds, of ignoring, of the emotions consuming his sound logic with their oh so pointy teeth, of being the coward he never wanted to become. 

“Can you please sit?”

“I’m comfortable here, thanks.” Shinsuke says and takes a mouthful of coffee.

Atsumu’s jaw ticks, the muscle going along his cheek standing prominent against the skin. He wants them to be on equal grounds but Shinsuke’s metaphorical and physical stability is the counter. He’s not moving. 

Then something he does not expect:

Atsumu’s eyes taking a wet sheen, and “Why do you keep treatin’ me like a child?” his hands form fists on the table. “It’s like no matter what I do, you keep lookin’ at me like I’m this infant that can’t think on its own.” 

_“He’ll try to confront you and when he does - he’ll break.”_

”Even if we’re one year apart ya don’t respect me as an adult. What the fuck do I need ta do for you to stop lookin’ at me like _that_?” Atsumu’s voice cracks at the end, like the pop of an ice cube slithering into a water-filled glass. “What do I need to do for you to understand that I make my own decisions?”

He doesn’t raise his tone once, nor does he let go of Shinsuke’s gaze. It’s a magnetic pull that they can’t fight.

“Do you even respect me a lil? Like you do ‘Samu?” 

Shinsuke whispers, “Of course I do.”

“Then why do you keep doin’ this? Why do you keep running away? No matter how many times I call, you don’t answer. How am I supposed’ta fix this when the only way I can contact ya, apparently, is by landin’ uninvited on yer doorstep like a creep?” 

At Shinsuke’s silence, he continues hacking his way through the bushes.

“Not ’ta mention you thinkin’, fer reasons beyond me, that you got between me and Omi. So what? Now I can’t think on my own? Or--”

Shinsuke lets out a shaky sigh that shuts him up in an instant. With his eyes closed he can pretend Atsumu is not in the room. He leaves his mug on the counter in case he drops it from the nerves.

“When I graduated you said you loved me and I made you that promise. Then you moved on, like any normal person would do, and you started a relationship with Sakusa-kun. Gran passed and I deliberately vanished off the radar. Your past feelings might have resurfaced in your worry, then amplified at the prospect of something bad happening to me, despite having moved on.”

Now it’s Atsumu who doesn’t break the silence. He must have waited for an explanation long enough to keep his tongue behind his teeth.

“Then you started sending me those texts in hope of me answering. You got a high fever for it. But you kept on blaming yourself. And now you think you still--”

“Who says I’m normal?”

Shinsuke frowns, keeps his eyes tightly shut.

“You said, ‘like any normal person would do’. Who says I’m normal?”

He catches the scrape of the chair when Atsumu stands. He’s silent, stops just a little before it’s considered impolite or a break in personal space. At least Shinsuke hopes his senses are correct. 

“Will you look at me, Kita-san?” 

He doesn’t say ‘please’ this time. Shinsuke is surprised he still keeps the ‘san’ honorative, but then again Osamu, Suna and Gin still keep it too. Atsumu has always been the bolder one of the four of them, Shinsuke figured he’ll be the one to break this boundary first. 

The bitter thing is - he’s right. For some reason Shinsuke kept on treating him like a child, if in a mild way. Back when he hadn’t put a ban on the topic, Ren and Aran had speculated it was because of his feelings. But now he has to let go of his own reasons and give Atsumu the respect he deserves.

Shinsuke opens his eyes.

Atsumu’s shoulders relax a second later in a relieved sigh. He looks like he wants to reach out, is barely holding his body from reacting to his thoughts. But he keeps his ‘appropriate’ distance, makes no move to act against something Shinsuke has explicitly put a barrier against. Ironically, his self control is what almost topples Shinsuke’s resolve to maintain said barrier.

“What’ll it take for you to believe me?” Shinsuke doesn’t give him an answer because he simply can’t, he doesn’t know. “Or, is it that you don’t wanna believe me?”

Shinsuke’s head falls back a bit, to point his chin, and he crosses his arms. It has the opposite effect. Atsumu’s eyes follow his arms, the sleep T-shirt now pulled tight over Shinsuke’s solid frame, a direct result from the insane amount of physical work, then they slide up to his shoulders, his neck, finally meet Shinsuke’s gaze once more.

Abruptly, he steps back and slaps his palms over his face, unable to cover the red that spreads to the tips of his ears.

“I _so_ didn’t imagine it like this.” he mutters, bends back so he’s facing the ceiling even if his vision is obscured by his own hands. “AGH, ‘Samu, ya bastard!”

Atsumu sits in the chair he vacated, pours milk into his coffee while his expression remains a curious blend of embarrassment and anger that makes it appear like he’s either about to start crying or screaming. Or both.

He peeks at Shinsuke, who has not moved an inch, snaps his head back as the carmine spreads over his face like ink.

Shinsuke is unused to the polar changes in serious situations. One moment he’s thinking that’s it, he’s going to relent, and the next Atsumu loses his shit over Shinsuke’s recent muscle development.

Atsumu shakes his head, eyes glued to the refrigerator. “Now I look like an even bigger kiddie. Fuck my life.” he chokes out, smacks his hand over his forehead.

The snort escapes Shinsuke before he can stop it. Once it’s out, actual laughter starts to bubble in his lungs, makes his shoulders shake in an attempt to hold it in. “You’re seriously loosin’ it ‘cuz I gained some muscle?”

“Some-- Kita-san, you’re almost as buff as Bokkun!”

Shinsuke looks down at himself, then to side, to see his arm when he flexes it. Maybe it’s a bit more than expected for his height, that’s the consequence of hard work.

“No, no, no, please stop that.” Atsumu, honest to the deities, covers his eyes.

“It’s just muscles.”

“It’s not!”

“It is. We all have ‘em.”

“That’s not ta point. You’re you. I don’t care how muscular Rintarou or Hitoshi are.”

“What do Suna and Gin have to do with this?”

Atsumu does scream.

Shinsuke pretends he doesn’t understand until the dread has leaked out of both of them. He takes his mug and sits opposite of Atsumu. Atsumu straightens out of his slouch, aware of the symbolism of the little act.

“Why didn’t you want to believe it?” he’s back to the soft tone, only now he’s not vibrating in place in anticipation collected for months.

“You like dynamic things that keep your attention, that make you strive for improvement. Interesting things.” Shinsuke takes a sip of his coffee at the same time Atsumu does. “I’m just a boring farmer.” he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. 

He raises his eyes when Atsumu doesn’t utter a word, is met with a deadpan expression.

“That’s your reasonin’.” he says it as a robotic statement. “That I’ll get bored of the person I’ve been in love with since I was sixteen.” he puts his mug on the table to start counting on his fingers. ”Of the person who made me take care of m’self, which is the reason I managed ta actually have a volleyball career in the first place, instead of gettin’ burned out at 19. Of the person whose scent I’ve always been smitten by. Of the person I wanna fall asleep next ta and wake up next ta. Of the person I wanna come home ta. Do I need ta list it all? ‘Cuz it’ll take me some time.”

Shinsuke can’t do anything but stare in disorientation. “You and Sakusa-kun dated.”

Atsumu leans forward, places his hands on the table and twines them together. “Fucked. We fucked. Friends with benefits. He finally pulled his head outta his ass and got together with Ushijima-kun. Anythin’ else?”

“I thought you not contactin’ me for a year was you havin’ gotten over your crush.”

Atsumu’s mouth pulls into a sullen face. “I’ll give ya that. I did try. Obviously didn’t manage to.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Atsumu takes in a quick inhale, the hurt gleams in the depths of his eyes again. “You’re loyal to the bone. You always make sure everybody is alright before lookin’ at yerself. Yer favourite ice cream flavor is chocolate with mint and green tea. You clean your house every three days 'cuz ya don’t like it when dust piles up. You love anythin’ that has tofu on it, especially if it’s a tofu hamburger or stir fried with udon, from that small family shop six streets from Inarizaki.”

He lowers his eyes to his coffee. 

The sun starts to peek from the window.

“You like watchin’ sunsets and sunrises, ‘cuz they make ya feel humility. You’ve always wanted a house in the countryside, ‘cuz the city’s too loud for ya. Yer favourite flower is the blue star flower. You prefer goin’ on a long walk, rather than a jog. You wanted to be a pediatrician but some kid cried when ya glared and ya gave up.”

Atsumu’s hair is a more appealing blond now, one half of it shines in the slowly emerging sun rays. 

“The reason why you were in class 7 was ‘cuz you believe in doing things consistently, so ya never slacked, even when you were captain. You believe in the journey more, than in the results.” Atsumu rubs at his nape and murmurs, “Something’ I didn’t really appreciate. But uh, you also like to wake up early so you have more time in the day, to do the things you want.”

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu stops talking, his gaze lands on the fridge, just over Shinsuke’s shoulder.

This isn’t something he’s had experience with, nor is it something he’s studied or practised. He’s outputting more than he’s used to and it’s in a territory he hasn’t ventured in once. 

“ _I_ don’t know _you_.”

Atsumu's eyes grow wide degree by degree. He still doesn’t move them from the refrigerator. “What’s my favourite ice cream?”

“Coconut with blueberry.”

“Favourite time of the day?”

“Dusk, ‘cuz eatin’ after a full day of practise is one of the most satisfyin’ feelings.”

Atsumu’s index finger starts tapping, "Tuna or mackerel?”

“Tuna. _Ootoro_.”

“Chrysanthemum or begonia?”

“Lily of the valley. What’s the point of this?”

“Humor me. What’s my biggest fear?”

“Never reachin’ your full potential and that bein’ yer own fault.”

“Do I like beaches?”

Shinsuke lets out a breath, “Yes.” a pause. “But you can’t choose between the beach and the mountain.”

“See, those fast answers look like ya do know me, Kita-san.” he’s fiddling with his fingers now, goes to pick at a scab at his middle knuckle, stops. “Yer prolly thinkin’, “that’s superficial shit, you toddler”, but not a lot of people know that ‘bout me. I don’t want ‘em to, so I never answer when they ask. You remembered all those lil pieces I showed ya, instead’a just throwin’ ‘em away.”

Shinsuke feels this would be the part in a movie where music will start playing - soft, with a sweet melody, slow and nostalgic. Something to portray the outburst inside of his chest that feels like he’s been blown out of his little nebula, deep into the numerous vibrant colors of space. 

The next part is a whisper, and Atsumu’s honey eyes meet Shinsuke’s. “Who’s the person I wanna wake up next ta, Kita-san?”

The sun has risen almost entirely, enough for the kitchen to be engulfed in warm, blinding light.

One moment and his eyes prickle in a tell-tale sign of tears. Atsumu reaches over the table, hands placed with his palms up, fingers splayed open. Shinsuke blinks any tears that want to make themselves shown away, his arms twitch. Atsumu wiggles his fingers in a ‘come here’ manner.

“I work on a farm. In Hyogo. You live in Tokyo.”

“So? ‘Samu lives here too, while Rintarou’s in Tokyo.” 

Shinsuke’s hands land on the very edge of the table. 

“I’m not movin' to Tokyo. And you won’t move here.”

“I don’t expect ya to.”

They inch closer.

“The four years haven’t passed yet.”

“There’s literally a month and a half left.”

One by one, he connects their palms. Atsumu slowly twists them until his fingers slip between Shinsuke’s. 

  
  


_Bonus scene, half an hour later_

“I hafta go to work.” Shinsuke pulls his work coat on, ties the scarf around his neck. 

“Can’t ya take the day off?”

“No. And you need to sleep. I’ll be back for lunch.”

Atsumu shifts his head sheepishly to the side. “I uh, I don’t have a futon. Kinda expected you’ll kick me outta here.”

“Mine’s in the room to your left.” Shinsuke zips up the coat, then does the buttons over it. 

Atsumu chokes. “Y-your futon? Yer gonna let me sleep in yer futon?”

“I dunno where the other one is so that’s the only option.”

“I’m goin’ ta hug ya.” and he does, before Shinsuke can react to the words. 

His arms wrap around him, despite the coat. He should have done this before Shinsuke had put it on. Shinsuke returns the embrace, if a little slower. It’s all a dream to him currently, but Atsumu’s nose pressed against the edge of his jaw after having butted the scarf down with his chin, his warmth and the faint hint of cologne on his skin are indicators that it’s real. 

This can wait. Atsumu’s going to fall asleep on his feet, if the way he’s tilting forward can tell him something. 

Shinsuke makes a fast move to catch the back of Atsumu's legs to bring them around his middle. Atsumu shrieks quietly, latches onto his shoulders. With his ear pressed to his chest, Shinsuke hears his heart’s accelerated beat while walking towards his room. It’s a bit cold this morning, he’ll have to put the heater on. 

“This was a surprise, but, I can get used to it.” Atsumu’s breath tickles his scalp.

Shinsuke carefully gets on his knees to pull the cover and deposit him on the futon. Atsumu is smiling, then it stretches to a grin. His eyes are barely open when he pulls the cover over himself. 

“Ne, Kita-san, can I hug ya some more later?”

Shinsuke’s lips pull, the corners going upwards. “Yeah. Now catch a nap.” 

Shinsuke stands up, almost goes down for a kiss. Maybe he should have. He’ll have time for that. Later. He puts the heater on low, stops at the door of the room, looks back to catch Atsumu looking at him. He goes back, to press their mouths together.

Shinsuke’s breath is minty after he’d brushed his teeth but Atsumu still tastes like coffee. Atsumu’s hand slides to the base of his head, a hot and sleek muscle pokes his lower lip. Shinsuke’s own tongue meets his in a twist that makes Atsumu whine and try to get closer.

Shinsuke pulls away. “You can call me Shinsuke.” he mutters it in the scarce space between them, then he gets to his feet.

A weird noise lodges itself into Atsumu’s throat. 

They’ll have time for that. Later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed (and suffered as much as I did because ngl I cried)! Kudos to you if you figured out the 'four' sumbolism.
> 
> Here's my [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/inarizakistan) if anybody wants to gush about Atsukita/Inarizaki!


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